Cleanse
by Red Feathered Pen
Summary: A holy knight on a pilgrimage against an ancient evil. Can a man who cheats death truly fight against the demon's, or is he bound to join their ranks? A narrative of Demon's Souls.
1. The Nexus

"Temptation is the most vile of the demons's tricks. It is a whisper in your ear, a shadow in your mind. We have asked you to resist the temptations of this world. Umbasa is in your hearts, and he has slain avarice, hubris, lust, gluttony, sloth, and envy. He has tempered your wrath into a weapon of divinity. Yet now, we ask you to combat the whispers and shadows that are not of this world.

Before you embark on this pilgrimage, steel your hearts and your faith. Let not the touch of Demon's Souls be a stain upon your very own!"

* * *

'Where am I?'

"Soul of the lost, withdrawn from its vessel, let strength be granted so that the world might be mended."

'Why…can I not feel anything?'

"Soul of the lost, withdrawn from its vessel, let strength be granted so that the world might be mended."

'Why can I not see anything?'

"So that the world might be mended."

He felt himself rise uncontrollably, like floating to the surface in a lake. He could not tell for certain, but he felt as if he was moving away from the dark. Pale lue light began to creep in from all sides, illuminating the darkness as he was pulled upwards.

The light connected with itself and suddenly he was on ground. It looked to be made of glass, with glyphs inscribed all over. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he rose to his knees but heard no noise. The typical rustling of cloth and leather, the clinking of metal, it was all absent. It didn't feel right. He raised his head, only to be greeted by the most peculiar woman.

The woman was short and pale, with black hair. Her body, he noticed with a small amount of shame, was decidedly feminine in all the correct places. Her dress, however, was peculiar to him. She was barefoot, with a gown that seemed to be made entirely of black cloth bandages. She had a light cloak draped on her shoulders, and a small assortment of gold jewelry. In her hands was a long black pole, not atypical of the staffs at the temple.

'Her eyes….where are her eyes,' he thought with a start. And it was true, she had none. In their place were two large patches of wax. It unnerved him, to say the least.

"Who are you," he asked her. "Where am I? What's wrong with me?"

She looked down at him with an expressionless face. "This is the Nexus, it holds together the northern land of Boletaria."

The Nexus. He had only heard of it in the legends of the Old One. A temple, or more correctly a type of port, where the great Monumentals had gathered to combat the great evil.

"That…simply cannot be. The Nexus is a place of legend. A myth. What of my other inquiries. I beg you, what is wrong with me? Just who are you?"

"My name hast been cast off of me. Thine self may refer to me as thy wisheth."

"Surely you must have a name, or a title. Something," he pleaded. She merely stared at him, or would have, if she had eyes. "Please, why I cannot feel? It feels as if my senses-"

"Thou art dead."

That made him leap to his feet. He felt so light, lighter than even a child. He couldn't be dead, could he?

"I am…what?"

"Thou art dead," she said, as if explaining a fact of life to an infant. "Slain by the Dragon God, or does thine memory occlude?"

Memories flashed in his mind. His brothers fighting alongside him. A great fist coming towards him, and then….nothing.

"If you speak the truth, then how am I here? Death, from what I understand, is permanent."

"Then thine knowledge of mortality lacketh, severely. Thou can'st not exit the Nexus, but each of the five Archstones will connect thee to another node."

'Oh Umbasa…' He felt dizzy. Could he even feel dizzy? He stumbled past the woman, ignoring the eyes of two men near a stockpile. His feet carried him as the walls of the Nexus began to sway around him. He turned right, ran into something solid, and fell.

As his world spun, he felt himself being helped up. He could hear a voice, feminine, but couldn't make out the words. His eyes slowly began to focus, and as they did, his other senses began to clear themselves as well. He steadied himself against a wall.

"…alright…you unwell….."

'What…'

"…knight…ails you?"

'I cannot understand you…'

"…Umbasa…"

'Umbasa.' His world snapped to focus. In the distance he could see the black woman.

"Sir knight," came a soft voice. He jumped and turned his head to its source. The source was a blonde woman clad in missionary's robes. She was staring at him with concern in her eyes.

"I…am fine. I am fine. My sense, they left me…"

She patted his shoulder, though he could barely feel it. "The Nexus, it has that effect on us all the first time. It is quite something, is it not?"

"Are you dead as well," he asked. 'How can she be so calm?'

"Dead," she asked, "heavens no! Are you saying that you are?"

He nodded and gestured towards the direction of the black woman. "That woman said I was, the black woman. She told me I was dead, and I think she is right. I feel…different…wrong, I cannot explain it."

A fleeting look went through the woman's face. It looked like distrust, or perhaps even anger. "I," she said carefully, "would not trust in the words of that….woman. She is of the most peculiar sort. I have been here since I was transported here through a miracle shard. Many have come, but those who have left rarely return. Or return less than they were."

"You are a woman of God, are you not? Your robes are like those of missionaries from the temple," he said, gesturing to her attire.

Her face lit up. "Oh! Yes! I was a Worshipper, not even a Disciple, before the fog came in. Do you too serve our lord Umbasa?"

He nodded. "Yes, my lady, I serve him. The temple sent an advance party of soldiers into the fog, never to be heard from again. I was sent after them, with several brothers. They died fighting a demon of Hell."

"Is that what killed you," she asked. As soon as she did, she covered her mouth in horror. "Oh! Apologies! I did not mean to offend! I only meant to-"

Somehow a chuckle left his throat. He waved his hand. "It is alright, sister. No offense was meant and none was taken. That demon did not kill me, I was slain by another. We were able to vanquish it at great cost."

It had indeed been a great cost. Three of his brothers had died to take it down. One had been crushed by its weapon almost immediately, another had been broken beneath the demon's hand, and the third had been run through by his very own halberd.

"Jarl sacrificed himself to blind two of the demon's eyes, and Herst pulled its head down by its horns, allowing me the killing blow while giving his life in return. They died in a manner befitting the truest men of God."

"Umbasa," they muttered.

"There is great courage in you," she said, "I can see it. I know not what he may be able to do for you, but there is a knight who wanders the Nexus. Seek him out; he has been here even longer than I."

"Thank you, my lady."

She bowed with a smile. "You are quite welcome, sir knight."

"Might I have the name of my lady?"

She smiled wider. "You may call me Mariel, if it pleases you."

He gave a curt nod. "My sincerest thanks, Sister Mariel."

The knight in question was not difficult to find. As he had learned, the Nexus currently only housed a man named Thomas, and blacksmith named Bodwin, the black woman, the blonde woman, a Disciple of God, and the warrior.

"Sir knight," he beckoned, "I would have words."

The knight stared at him for a moment, before laughing hysterically. "Hahaha, well you slipped through the fissure too! Did you come for Demon's Souls, or to save the land and be remembered as a hero?"

He looked at the man in confusion. "Please, sir, I have questions. I need to know what this is and why I am here!"

The man only laughed harder. "As do we all, but I've no answers for you! No, no, if you seek the truth, you need to seek it. Six Archstones, six demons! Haha, I've just done you a favor, I didn't get a tasty morsel like that. I, daresay, didn't even get scraps."

"You would not help a fellow knight-"

"Hahaha, I am no knight! Not anymore. Who knows, I might be the day! You poor wretch, a new arrival, but there's no salvation to be found in the Nexus! Don't be shy with the first Archstone, give it a little touch! After all, demon's aren't only attracted to human souls It is why you came, isn't it? To this accursed land of Boletaria?"

"Demon's have souls that are accursed, they are abominations of Hell!"

The knight looked at him, and all signs of mirth were gone from his face. "Well then, Godly Man, you had best start with the divine judgment. That is the only way you are going to speak to that damnable woman again."

The man had been of little help, but he decided to take his advice nonetheless. He searched for the black woman, but could find her nowhere. Thomas had been kind, but had not seen her. Bodwin was far more gruff, but similarly unhelpful. Seeing no other choice, he put his hand against the Archstone.

"Take me away from this place," he murmured. "Take me to where I am supposed to be."

Nothing happened.

"Take me away, I say. You connect the world, do you not?"

Again, nothing happened.

"Fool of a knight" he mumbled to himself. "To think that a stone would take me to a demon-"

A flash of light blinded him. He could feel the gust of wind, even though death had dulled his senses.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the pandemonium that had become the Boletarian Palace.

'Umbasa…'


	2. Boletarian Archstone, Part 1

'Umbasa…'

He had only been to the palace once, and even then he and his brothers saw little past the gates. They were permitted to train on the lawn with the palace guards, but had been otherwise relegated to an unused barracks.

'Back then, it had been a bright place. Not this.'

Small fires littered the bridge, as did decaying corpses. He could smell burnt flesh and rot, the scent made his eyes water and bile threaten to come up from his gut. Crows were feasting on the carrion of what had once been the people of Boletaria.

He could see ramshackle fortifications ahead, with dreglings attempting to hide behind them in piecemeal armor. He snuck off to the left, where he found a stairwell leading down. A dregling attempted to ambush him, but he deftly moved to the side.

One swing of Herst's blessed mace spattered the poor wretch's brains upon the wall.

A roar came from the skies above, and he looked up to see a shadow blocking out the sun.

He threw himself against the wall as a great red dragon swooped down upon the bridge, obliterating the meager fortifications. The luckiest of the dreglings fell off the bridge to their peril, the unlucky ones were clenched in the great claws of the beast.

As the dragon flew off to parts unknown, he wondered what hope he had against something like that.

* * *

He kicked open the rusted gate, allowing him entry to a small courtyard. The sight before him unnerved him almost as much as the sight on the bridge. There were bodies, some charred, some not, but all decaying. He had seen as much when he arrived, but these were different. They were impaled.

'Dreglings lack that intelligence. This was done by something smarter, and something far more malicious.'

His senses told him to go back, but he ignored them. Something or someone had done this, and if it was as intelligent as he thought, it was a threat that needed to be dealt with, lest it become stronger.

He made his way towards a door that he recognized as one that led to a sewer. It would not be a clean approach, but perhaps he could use the sewers to his advantage. He reckoned few, if any, dreglings would be found in the murk of the sewers.

As he entered into the tower, his body tensed. It was out of pure reflex that be brought his shield up. He heard the scrape of stone on metal and the shattering of bone. And he was airborne.

He landed in a heap, rolling down the grass. A few more feet and he would have fallen off the edge. Pain shot through his clearly broken arm. He bit back a scream as he tore his shield off his useless arm. Grabbing his mace, he looked up to see what had attacked him.

'Oh God, she still lives?'

Emerging from the darkness of the tower was the Headswoman, the King's Justice, the Bloody Woman. She had many names. Her real name, however, was known to him. Her sanity was the stuff of gossip and rumor even before the fog had come.

"Executioner Miralda," he grimaced.

A giggle escaped from behind her ragged cloth hood. It was a filthy thing but it matched her disgusting robes, all patchwork and rope. She looked like a sinister scarecrow.

"I have you now," she giggled, "wretched traitor to the king!"

He rolled to the side, barely avoiding the overhand blow. She used the handle of her embedded weapon as a pivot, swinging her foot out and connecting with his broken arm. He heard himself scream.

Miralda giggled again. "Oh, did I cause a boo-boo? Let my axe kiss it all better!"

The woman pulled the great axe out of the ground, but it left her exposed. He grabbed his weapon and thrust it into her midsection, taking satisfaction when he heard the breath leave her lungs. He crawled and rose to his feet. Miralda had similarly composed herself.

"Miralda," he pleaded. "I am no enemy to the King! I serve him as I serve Umbasa! See reason!"

The scarecrow woman merely tilted her head. "Oh," she giggled again, "I rather think not. You cannot hope to tell truth, as you've yet to know it."

"What truth? Is there no reasoning with-"

He ducked her horizontal blow, and made to bring his mace up again to her ribs. He gripped its handle tight and drove it hard into her abdomen. He spun, making to strike the back of her head much like he had with the dregling.

Or he would have, had she not ducked the swing. The steel head of the mace swung harmlessly over Miralda, who jabbed the handle of her axe into his ribs, cracking them beneath the force. It was a strategic move, he realized, as she pinned his good arm against her torso. He struggled against her, but with a broken arm it was to no avail.

He drove his head into her canvas-covered face. She recoiled, allowing him to leap backwards towards the edge of the cliff. He gripped his mace tightly.

"If you are so intent on making me your enemy, may you reap what you've sown, executioner."

Miralda swung her monstrous axe above her head, and he straffed to the side. Again, she kicked him in his broken arm. He saw white and his knees buckled under the pain. He looked up to see the executioner standing over him. She was surely smiling under that hood.

"Little birdie," she whispered, "trapped by a spider. Feel her bite."

He felt the dagger enter his side. She had left her axe in the ground. Her hand now favored an ill-looking dagger.

"Miralda," he choked, "I…I was not an enemy to you….nor the King."

The woman stroked his face. "Oh, you poor thing," she soothed, "you know so little." She drew his face into her bosom, like a mother comforting her young. "Anyone with a soul is an enemy."

He coughed as she removed his helm. Her fingers ran through his long, dark blonde hair. "So few of you come to me anymore," she said in regret. "There is but one other here, a green lad. I will be rewarded for delivering him."

"There are more," he questioned.

Miralda gave another giggle. "Of course," she cooed. "Scarce few, but they are here. We keep the useful ones, they have formidable souls."

"And I don't?"

She giggled again. "Your soul is but an ember against their flames. Pity you could not kindle it. Now you will fade to ash." She grabbed him by the top of his breastplate and leaned him backward. He could feel his strength leaving.

"Not even a noble death, executioner? I am a knight of Umbasa, I at least deserve death beneath a blade."

She stared at him through those black holes in her hood. "Such hubris. I thought the temple snuffed that out."

"Not completely, it would seem."

Miralda chirped. "A noble death for a disgraced temple knight. Mmm, the irony of it all. I think you may be correct. I shall even do you the honor of keeping your head as a trophy."

She released her grip on him and turned to grab her axe. As Miralda did so, he summoned his last bit of strength and lept to his feet. He grabbed her from behind, his right hand gripping her between her breasts.

'Sick...vile woman,' he thought, feeling her press her hind against him.

"Some life left in you, I see," she giggled. "It has been so long since I have been touched. I definitely think I will keep your head."

"You are not afraid," he said. It was not a question, merely a statement of fact.

"Of course not," she said, pressing against him once more. "My dagger is poisoned. You have precious little strength and even less time to live."

"I am a man of God, you treacherous woman. I learned how to die in service to Him long ago. I will credit you one thing, however, your flame analogy is an apt one, Miralda."

"Oh," she said, "and how is that?"

"Because," he said, gripping her as tightly as he could, "it is only from ashes that things are reborn. Umbasa."

With that, he grabbed Miralda with all his remaining strength and threw himself off the cliff, with her in tow.

His last thought, before he was dashed against the rocks, was of a small sense of satisfaction he got, listening to Miralda scream all the way to the depths below.


End file.
